Uragiri inspired: God's Light
by myriad-souls
Summary: The lights had brought with it a quaint, peaceful ring; a hymn that soothed their aching body, and lifted their spirits. It had brought them comfort and warmth, as they felt their energy restored to their shells.-Oneshot


"We're losing our men, my liege!" his general shouted as he came galloping up to him. The blue eyes of his general held a steel of courage and fierce loyalty to his King, but with their numbers dwindling down at the rate that it was, he knew that they will not be able to hold on much longer. His next decision would be crucial; his men had sworn to fight with him to the death, and should he told them to hold their position, he would undoubtedly led them all to their graves, including his own.

He held the reins of his steed and looked around him. Lifeless bodies scattered the field, both of their enemies and their comrades. He felt himself shaking. How could this have happened? They had been winning not too long ago. Their enemies taken by surprise as his troops laid siege on the fort, furiously reclaiming what was was rightfully theirs before that silent and deadly assault not three months ago. That was before the purple banners came pouring through every inch of the fort, circling them from every direction. How could he had led his men to this trap! And to know that his most trusted advisor had betrayed them all!

The King steadied himself quickly. There's only one thing left to do, and as much as he pride his honor, he will not waste his men's lives any more. He threw one look to his generals', to which the young man nodded at his silent command. The general took off back to the center of the battle, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Retreat! Retreat!"

He watched his men leaving their posts, with the archers providing them cover. The charging enemies were held back by the storm of arrows coming from the hills, providing the needed space and time for his men to escape. With the reins of his steed gripped tightly, he charged back to the field, ignoring the shouts of his men calling him to go back. No, he will not go back. Not without his brother.

"The King had called for us to retreat my prince. We have to leave!" A soldier shouted to him from a distance, but he simply ignored him. His attention was fixed to the man lying in front of him, with a gaping hole on his middle. The man's breathing was steadily beginning to grow faint, but he could not steady his hands long enough. He let out a frustrated groan. It felt as if those hands did not belong to him at all, and he could only watch, frozen as those blood and grime covered hands trembled even more, wasting the seconds that ticked away.

"My prince, you have to leave," the man spoke weakly. His face was void of color, and he knew that his time was near. It didn't matter though, he had sworn his allegiance to his King, and he would gladly die to protect his country's honor.  
"I'm not leaving you." The young prince willed his hands to glow, and the wound stitched itself back together. He nearly fell as his knees buckled when the tried to get up; the effort to heal had sapped what little energy he had left. The man whose life he had just saved quickly caught him during his fall, but he pushed him away as hard as he could. "Go, soldier! That's an order!"

He looked around. Many of his men had fallen, littering the field with their blood and grime from the fire that ravaged the forest around them. He felt his heart sank. How did we let this happen? A lone tear rolled his cheek.

"Sire, we have to leave!" One of his men had caught up with him, shouting for his King to retreat to safety.  
"I'm not leaving without my brother!" and he dug his heels deeper into his steed.  
"My liege!", but the King had already held the reins of his horse and sprinted back to the battle field.

Desperately looking for his kin, his eyes caught hold of his brother's brown locks. His brother looked beyond exhausted. His eyes tried to observe for any wounds, but he could find none. He was relieved. But he also knew that his brother had been at his breaking point. The only reason his men had not been completely obliterated by now was because his brother was a healer. The only healer that they have, but seeing that their enemy had none, his brother was ferociously protected as their most precious asset.

He watched as those brown locks walked to an abandoned part of the field. Fallen soldier left precisely where they drew their last breath. He watched as his brother trembled. And he watched in horror as he saw his brother's hands clutching the fabric of his tunic, and subsequently closing his eyes, letting out another drop of tears down his grime covered cheek.

"No!" he screamed. But it was too late. The golden glow had already emerged from his brother, and the field was basked in the warm light. He watched as their enemy gaped in horror. Should the rite be completed, they will have no chance of winning whatsoever.

"Take him down!" he heard the frantic cry from his enemy faintly. A swarm of archers took their position, and aimed.

He was powerless. He watched as the thousand arrows flew towards a lone spot: his brother. At that moment, his brother's eyes opened, but those sage green eyes were replaced by pure light. The arrows were met with an invisible barrier, and clattered to the ground. Another wave of light traveled all across the field, and the most peculiar thing happened.

The warmth that he and his fellow men had felt, were not shared with their enemy. A cruel, vicious coldness numbed the black clad army, and they all let out a unified cry of despair, but it was too late. The bright light ravaged their bodies completely, leaving only one last scream of agony before they burst into lights themselves. The subsequent explosion happening around them was a wondrous sight; had they not known that the field was once the stage of a battle, they might have believe that they were seeing a fireworks show.

It felt like hours, as the light recharged their bodies. A soldier who before was panting for breath along with a gaping hole in his sides watched in awe as his wound knitted itself back together. And throughout all parts of the field covered with the majestic light, countless other soldiers watched as their wounds miraculously healed. The lights had brought with it a quiet but peaceful ring; a hymn that soothed their aching body, and lifted their spirits. It had brought them comfort and warmth, and they felt their energy restored to their shells.

The King stood rooted to his spot. Seeing his brother glowed like the sun had made him unaware that he was not breathing. He could feel the warmth washing over his body, and he could never be more thankful for it. But he was the only one close enough to see what was happening to his brother. The glow had slowly began to fade, and before it completely disappear, he watched his brother fell to the ground, unmoving.

He ran. Lifting his brother's head gently onto his lap, he cried desperately his brother's name, but there was no response. His brother's body felt cold, and his eyes were closed shut.

The soldiers surrounded them. None of them knew what had happened, but they knew that they were safe due to the Prince's act. Only the King knew just what his brother had done. He had tapped into that power, the one that he swore he would never let his brother knew about, in order for him not to use it. He now knew that it was all useless. He had not been there to protect his brother. He had let his brother experienced enough horror for him to be so desperate.

His brother had sacrificed his life to save them; to bring them the final victory. As he clung to his brother's lifeless body, he wailed in agony of the pain tearing through his heart.

The sky was dark, with its winds blowing viciously. At that very moment, the whole existence mourned the death of the young bearer of God's Light.


End file.
